Harry Potter and the Veil of Lost Souls
by Estel Star-Kindler
Summary: BOOK SIX FIC: Harry has returned to Privet Drive for yet another summer of hell - just because he has to be there, doesn't mean he wants to be. But things are about to take off, and things are already in motion in the wizarding world...
1. The Unwanted Letter

**Disclaimer**** – Let me see… checks bank account Nope, I'm definitely not richer than the Queen, therefore couldn't possible be any one but Estel Elven Enchantress – savvy? So on with the story!**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One – The Unwanted Letter

   The shadow grey sky thundered ominously, threatening to unleash a torrent of heavy rain that was long over-due. For the second year running, the residents of Privet Drive (in fact the whole of the south of England, but you wouldn't have thought so the way they muttered about it) had suffered a desert like drought, and the usually bright-green, well-kept lawns were half-dead and yellowing. The ground was cracked and harder than concrete, and the heat lately had been so intense that there were footprints in the road where the tarmac had melted.

 Staring out at the unpromising weather for a first floor window at Number Four was a tall, scruff-black haired boy, who appeared grimmer than the clouds did. He gave the impression of someone who has just had enough, and whose health had diminished quickly over a short space of time; his skin was a pearly white; contrasting greatly with the black and purple bags under his eyes; his eyes themselves were bloodshot and half-closed, lazily watching the outside world. It did not take a genius or a physic to work out that Harry Potter was greatly troubled, and that he had suffered some kind of loss.

  Harry sighed and hung his head in his hands for a while. It had been over a month now since Sirius had died, and he just kept replaying the scene over and over again in his mind; Sirius, laughingas a curse from his cousin sailed harmlessly over his shoulder; Sirius, falling back in a graceful arc, as though in slow motion, the laughter not yet gone, but a look of utter surprise on his face as he tripped through the ancient archway, and black velvet curtains… and disappeared forever. Gone. Dead.

 Harry shook his head and went back to staring outside. The soft patter of spitting rain had just begun to hit the windows – the summer storm had started. Harry couldn't help but to realise just how much the weather reflected how he felt…

He knew in his heart that the worst was not yet over, that the worst was yet to come. He knew full well that it had only just begun; that Sirius was to be the first victim of many. Voldemort would come after him at all costs now, Harry knew that too. How could he not, when he knew at the Prophecy?

Half the Prophecy, Harry corrected himself, Dumbledore said he only heard half. And what did he know? That Harry was a threat to him; that he, a young wizard, still at school, had the power to defeat the greatest –  no, darkest wizard the world had ever known. Did he know the truth? That before the end, one of them would have to die? That was what Trelawney had predicted; _For__ neither can live while the other survives…_

The rain pelted ruthlessly at the windows now, threatening to shatter the glass into a thousand pieces, the newly (and, Aunt Petunia made sure, rather publicly) replaced white frames groaned at the sudden force of the storm. In the street, swift running rivers were already bubbling down the gutters, the drain gurgling noisily as they struggled to keep up with the over-load of water. Thunder rolled foreboding across the suburb of Little Whinging, casting Privet Drive and its surrounding roads into a dark gloom. Forks of lightening crackled with an ear-splitting screech across the sky to the ground, the odd explosion going off unexpectedly and making Harry jump.

He stared blankly out of the window now, seeing and yet blind to the havoc being wreaked outside. 

"POTTER!" his Uncle Vernon bellowed up the stairs, "Get down here boy!"

Harry didn't so much has blink in reply; in fact he pretended not to have heard him at all. Maybe if he stayed silent, his Uncle would –

"POTTER!"

Never mind.

Wearily, Harry rose to his feet, and stepping over the accumulating mess on his bedroom floor, he trudged heavily down the stairs and into the living room to face his Uncle Vernon. He didn't even bother to ask what he wanted – he just stared blearily at the floor.

"Go and get some milk for your Aunt," he snarled nastily, "She's trying to cook and she's run out."

Harry cocked up one eyebrow, and glanced and the horrific storm outside – yeah, right…

"Why don't you go in the car then?" he replied, telling himself not to get into a fight. That was something he did not need right now. He looked up to see his Uncle's moustache twitched dangerously.

"Not that its any of our business, you little freak," he snapped, "But I have a meeting in half an hour."

"Send Dudley out," Harry answered, a bite in his voice, "He's fat, he could do with the exercise –"

"DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY SON LIKE THAT!" roared Vernon, his face turning trademark purple, "OR I'LL – I'LL –"

"You'll what? Spray me to death with your spit? I asked for the news, not the weather you know." Harry shot back, this time the sarcasm dripping blatantly from his words.

For a moment, Uncle Vernon seemed taken aback, but recovered in a flash of lightening.

"HOW DARE YOU! AFTER ALL WE'VE DONE FOR YOU – I NOTICE THAT GOOD-FOR-NOTHING _GODFATHER_ OF YOURS IS DOING NOTHING!" he bawled, his temples throbbing, eyes bulging out of his balding head.

"DON'T – YOU – DARE – BRING – SIRIUS – INTO – THIS!" Harry yelled back with a surge of fury that surprised even himself, "DON'T YOU EVER SPEAK ABOUT HIM LIKE THAT AGAIN!" and blood coursing like scorching fire through his veins he stormed past his Uncle and out the front door, slamming it behind him so hard that one of the glass panes slipped and shattered.

Breathing heavily, he struggled to remain at a dignified but speedy walk away from the house and back to his usual park.

He couldn't have been outside for more than a few seconds, but he was already drenched from head to toe (though even when soaked his hair would still not lie flat) and his old baggy shirt was wet through. Harry didn't care; he merely carried on determinedly away from the hell that was life at Privet Drive. 

Before long – and by now he looked as if he'd just stepped out of a power shower – he had passed into Magnolia Crescent, receiving disgusted looks from more than a few drivers along the way. Even after another year his appearance still seemed appalling to his stuck up neighbours, and Harry had recently found out that an elderly gossip had actually tried to get him arrested for going out in public in such disastrous clothing.

Harry suddenly realised that his feet had led him swifter than he had thought, and he was already by the park. Well, if had been a park, but the swings and slides had long since been destroyed by Dudley's – sorry, _Big D's _Gang, and all that was left was a rusty and rather shifty looking climbing frame.

Without warning, Harry turned and kicked the fence furiously, releasing a roar of suppressed emotion at the same time. His Uncle had hit closer to home than Harry would ever, ever admit to him. He hadn't actually told his Aunt and Uncle that Sirius was – well_, that word. They would only sneer at him, jeer that he was all alone. He could almost hear Dudley's taunting…" __POTTER'S BACK, BUT POTTER LOST BLACK! POTTER'S A WIMP, HE COULDN'T SAVE HIM!" _

Harry gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut. He wouldn't tell the, there was no point or need; besides, they still lived in relative fear that his mass-murdering Godfather would come and put them in their place at Harry's command…

Life with the Dursleys had been a bit anti-climatic this summer. Harry couldn't help but to feel at least a little gratitude towards his Aunt, even if she did treat him like he was dog's mess on the bottom of Dudley's shoe. After all, there was no way he could deny that he was alive because of her… Don't kid yourself, he thought, it's only because she's my mother's sister, and has the same blood… All the same, she had been avoiding him since he got back as if she knew he knew, and to be perfectly honest this suited Harry just fine.

Hermione, Ron and Hagrid had all been writing to him this summer , but Harry found no joy in their letters. They all said the same thing, "…Are you ok? ...Don't do anything rash!...Stay at the Dursleys, we'll see you soon…" It was almost as frustrating as their annoying cryptic clues from last year – except that at least then he had had Sirius's letter's to look forward to. Now there was nothing of great interest to him arriving by owl…

Although, Harry reminded himself suddenly, that's not quite true; during the first week of the holiday's, he had received a rather unexpected letter from a new friend. Nymphadora Tonks, though to most she was just 'Tonks', was a friendly but clumsy witch and a metamorphmagus, who change her hair colour more often than Hogwarts changed its Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. On the whole, it had been a strange letter to say the least. It didn't tell him to 'be careful' – rather, she sent him a leaflet on Auror training, and a checklist of O.W.L's needed, as well as what she must have considered to be useful assets. Harry had smiled to notice she had wisely missed out the word 'stealth'. Harry guessed she must have been in contact with Professor McGonagall, and he had no memory of telling her about his career choice.

And that was anther thing – his O.W.L results were due in a week or so, and Harry simply didn't know what he was going to do. In hindsight, he realised he probably should have thought about it a lot earlier, because in truth he didn't really know what jobs existed in the wizarding world. He knew about the teachers, shopkeepers and Auror's, but past that he didn't really have much of an idea. He assumed there must be hundred's of different jobs at the Ministry, but Harry couldn't help but to feel repelled after seeing what had happened to Percy Weasley.  And could he really see himself working in that place after all that had happened there? Besides, he wasn't to fond of the idea of working for someone who only a year before had called him disturbed and a liar.

The rain began to ease off a little now, though it still rammed ruthlessly as the now sodden – but overwhelmingly grateful - playing field outside the park area. Harry sighed and sat down on a near by bench, half burnt and blackened after Dudley's lot had seen to it. What was going on in the world which he missed so much? Where was Voldemort? What was he doing? What was he thinking? Where was he going to strike next? He had listening to the muggle news, though without the rapt attention he'd had previously, but just like last year nothing at all had happened. No disappearances, no deaths,  no suspicious behaviour, nothing. And the Daily Prophet hadn't been much use either; all it did was attack at Cornelius Fudge for doing absolutely bog all to find Voldemort.

Quite frankly, Harry didn't know what to think about that – but he felt wholly certain that Fudge posed no threat whatsoever to Voldemort, and that the Dark Lord was probably in hysterics over the Minister for Magic's blubbering antics.

Now Dumbledore on the other hand – Dumbledore was a different matter all together. Harry had seen the fear in Voldemort's eyes as they had duelled in the hallway at the Ministry, how the Fountain of Magical Brethren had been destroyed in a blaze of glory on his Headmaster's behalf. Harry did not find it hard to see why Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort had ever feared. He had to admit it to himself; though he had still not quite forgiven Dumbledore for ignoring him the entire year, his anger was slowly ebbing away. Dumbledore had said it himself, "The blame lies with me, and me alone." So at least he had no denied it – and that made it impossible to hate him all on its own.

The downpour had slowed to little more than the odd raindrop falling lonely from the white candy flossed textured sky, and in the west the clouds began to break apart to reveal the shining sun, beaming down brightly on the newly watered lawns, returning from beyond shadow once again.

Harry took in deep breaths of clean fresh air, the smell of wet earth rising all around him, and stretching his legs he climbed heavily to his feet, shivering a little. He knew he had been foolish to stay out in the rain, and he knew as soon as he got back his Uncle would be waiting for him. Deciding he didn't actually fancy that right now, he wondered pointlessly out of the park and around the streets, resembling a drowned rat more than anything else.

He ambled past Magnolia Crescent and Whinging Way, both identical in appearance to Privet Drive, and for that matter, all the surrounding street sin Little Whinging. He saw a few up-turned noses peering suspiciously out of the windows at him, the net curtains ruffling slightly as the gossiping women who had nothing else better to do than to spread rumours about each other dashed behind them as Harry glanced to his sides. Harry snorted at them. Stupid stuck-up…

Suddenly, a loud whooshing sound flew low over his head, and craning his beck he saw a bright-eyed, tufted-eared horned owl sweep elegantly down in front of him, coming into a perfect landing on the picket fence of Number 69. It cocked it's head curiously at him, and obediently stuck out its leg; a scroll of cracked and surprising dry parchment was attached by a leather thong.

Hastily, Harry tore the letter from the owl and ripped it open, reading the vaguely familiar writing at a super fast speed, his heart pounding.

_Harry,_

_           We are holding a memorial service for Sirius on August 16th. I can't say where it is, in case this owl is intercepted. We'll be round to pick you up the day before, so be ready. We'll leave a note your Aunt and Uncle again. Keep yourself well, Harry. Lupin._

Harry read and reread it. He felt empty inside, a sense of great loss, swelling up, about to burst…

Harry felt his throat go hoarse, and he clenched his jaw tightly shut. Just when you think life can't get any worse, he thought…

He glanced at the owl, who was still sitting on the white fence, watching him intently. Harry stared back at it.

"What?" he asked, a little sterner than he would have normally.

The owl eyed him reproachfully.

"Oh – fine- erm…" he scrambled about in his pockets for a pen or quill – which ever was handy.

"Here we go." He muttered, pulling an old and rather worse for wear quill from his trouser pocket. He stripped off a piece of parchment from the letter and hastily jotted, "Fine, I'll see you on the 15th then." Tying it to the owl's leg, he watched as it gave a farewell hoot and flew off into the sky behind the houses.

He stood motionless for a minute, gazing blankly at the letter in his hand. _A memorial service_ for Sirius…_So this was it. The letter he had been expecting but dreading all summer. Where would they hold it – Grimmauld Place? It just didn't seem right somehow. Sirius had hated it, surely it would be an insult to his memory to do so? And who would actually turn up? After all, Sirius was still officially on the run from the Ministry; he had never had his name cleared. The wizarding world (and, Harry remembered suddenly, so did the Muggle world) still believed him to be a traitorous mass murderer. He felt a surge of white hot anger burning inside him – Sirius had died to defend him, but his name would never be respected again._

Never… unless you do something, a voice in his head told him. The thought struck Harry quite suddenly. What if – what if he could clear Sirius's name? If he caught Wormtail, he would have all the proof he needed…and Sirius would be remembered for who he really was. Quickly, Harry found a crazy plan formulating itself in his head.

He suddenly realised the key word in that thought; crazy.

Sighing, he shoved the letter into his pocket and turned back down the street towards home – well, if you wanted to call it that…

After a few minutes, he found himself trudging heavily along the soaked front path, still shivering slightly. The car was gone from the front drive (apparently there had been petrol in the car) so Harry just took the spare key from beneath the door mat. The lock gave a small 'click' and swung open easily, and before he stepped inside he carefully placed the key back under the mat. His first instinct was to make straight for the upstairs, and have a nice long bath while his Aunt and Uncle were out.

He can't have been more than three soggy steps across the living room when an eerily familiar voice rang out, making him stop in his tracks.

"Wotcha Harry."

He knew that voice. Heart pounding, he spun around, and came face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soooooooo, what did we think of that one then??? Well, you know theres only one way to tell me….

PLEASE REVIEW!!!!

I'll give you a cookie?


	2. Appearences and Apologies

**Disclaimer – **Unfortunately, I'm still not richer than the Queen, or J. K. Rowling, come to that… which only goes to show who I'm not. But I do have a cold hand!****

**A/N**** – I'm not entirely sure why I'm putting this here… Seeing as how I don't really have much to warn you about… Oh yeah! In this chapter there are two things that give you a slight clue as to the fifth chapter.. Its all very confusing, don't worry if you don't spot it!**

**Reviews**

**Magnolia Lane** – Thank you very much, and I must say that was a great analytical review!****

**TeamExtrememGirl**** – **Well, I don't think reviews come much more rewarding than that! So here's your review!****

**Phoenix Marauder** – Lol, thanx! Pretty nasty cliffie that, ain't it??!!****

**Bronach**** Saorla** – Thank you! I hope you enjoy this as much!****

**Laura**** – Well thank you very much! I'm glad you liked it – I'm just trying to mimic what I think Rowling would do… of course, you watch, when the sixth book comes out I'll be way, WAY off! ^-^**

**~~~~xxxx~~~~**

Chapter Two – Appearances and Apologies

His blood coursed through his veins like molten lava, searing every part of him. He forgot the chill on his skin from the storm, and it felt as though thousands of white-hot needles were being pressed ruthlessly into him.

"Wotcha Harry!" said Bellatrix brightly, her voice light and casual, as though her and Harry were on speaking terms.

He whipped his wand out the back of his jeans pocket, and clenched it so lightly his knuckles went pearly translucent. Bellatrix seemingly noticed all the warning signs of a seriously angry young wizard, and the attempt at what Harry supposed she thought was a friendly look on her face changed to one of hurt and concern.

"What's up Harry? You look – well –"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" roared Harry furiously, his heart drumming recklessly in his chest.

For a moment, Bellatrix looked completely bewildered and taken aback – then her confusion miraculously cleared up.

"Oh God Harry, I'm so sorry…" she trailed off, and screwing up her face tightly as though thinking very hard about something, there was a loud popping noise. Standing before Harry, today with waist length cosmic blue hair, was a very awkward and guilty looking Nymphadora Tonks.

The great bubble of heated emotion that had been swelling up inside Harry's chest now deflated rapidly, leaving him feeling empty and almost sick.

"Harry I…" Tonks couldn't finish her sentence, but cast her eyes uncomfortably at the floor, shifting unmindfully around on her feet.

Slowly, Harry lowered his wand, and tried to ease his grip on it a little.

"Hey Tonks." He said in a very strained voice.

"Wotcha Harry." She repeated glumly, still gazing at the carpet.

"So, erm… what brings you here?" Harry croaked, his voice giving way for no particular reason.

"Oh – I just wanted to – you know – see how you were doing. See if you were OK." she added a little stiffly, her eyes wandering now to peering Aunt Petunia's perfectly positioned curtains.

"Yeah, well, I'm fine." Harry lied hastily, shoving his wand back into his pocket.

Tonks glanced questioningly at him.

"No you're not, Harry." She told the furniture in a quite voice.

"And you just made me feel tons better didn't you?" snapped Harry,"What does it matter anyway?"

"Harry I didn't mean –"

"Yeah well you did, so its done now isn't it?" he cut in viciously, a sharp bite in his words,  and turning his back on her, he headed for the stairs. "So unless there was something else you were wanting, I'm going to have a bath."

"Don't you even want to know why?" she called after him, a distinct note of underlying pain in her slightly shaky voice. He paused and turned back to her.

"Go on then." He said bluntly.

"I – we – the Order – we're trying to get closer to Him – "

"Voldemort." interrupted Harry coldly. Tonks flinched back.

"Right, well, we've been trying to get closer to Voldemort. I was meeting him today, but it seemed our precious Dark Lord was busy." She explained, crossing her arms.

"You were going as Bellatrix?"

"Something like that," she said in an off-hand manner," After, she's one of his favourites isn't she? Stupid, good-for-nothing, traitorous scum…." She muttered darkly.

For a second, neither of them spoke, and an uneasy silence fell.

"Erm… do you want a drink or something?" asked Harry, regretting having been so harsh on her before.

"Sure – what have you got?" she replied, brightening up a bit.

"I honestly don't know – just have to rummage around really." And he led her into the kitchen. His head stuck in the fridge, he called out the various drinks he found.

"Er… apple or orange juice… coke or water really." He said, searching around the back behind Petunia's foul cottage cheese.

"I'll have some apple juice if you don't mind Harry." She said, sounding rather relieved that he had forgiven her.

"The glasses are in the top cupboard, could you get a couple out?" gestured Harry, immediately regretting it as Tonks bounded eagerly forwards, knocking over a chair from the kitchen table.

"Tonks don't worry – seriously, it's –"

Harry was cut off by a loud crash was two of Uncle Vernon's best crystal wine glasses tumbled gracefully out and smashed into hundreds of shards on the hard tiled floor.

"Ooops! Sorry Harry!" she said apologetically, and quickly made to clear it up, unbalancing a stack of dinner plates and another chair in the process.

"Ooops! I'll just get those –"

"Tonks, please, just sit down!" begged Harry, fearing she would destroy the kitchen within a matter of seconds.

Tonks smiled at him sheepishly, and plonked herself down obediently on one of the surviving chairs. Releasing a sigh of relief, Harry carefully handed her the juice filled glass, and started breathing again only when she had placed it on the table.

"So, what's happening then?" inquired Harry, looking pointedly at her.

"Hasn't been much movement at all really. He seems to have slowed his progress since Siri – since the Ministry found out." She corrected herself sharply, and Harry felt a surge of pain.

"What's Dumbledore said?" he asked, eager to change the subject.

"He says we have to wait for him to make his move," she commented, though Harry got the impression she didn't agree. "That we just have to collect as much information as possible and try to keep one step ahead of him. Like last year."

"That didn't really work though did it? Maybe you could do with a change of tactics." He retorted sardonically, and Tonks shot him an uncharacteristically dark look.

"Don't have a go at me Harry, all I do is what I'm told to do. I'm just following orders." She said, a good deal more coolly.

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to – well –"

"I know Harry," she assured him softly, "Believe me, I know." And for the first time, Harry noticed that her eyes appeared bloodshot, as though she had been crying.

"I got Lupin's letter this morning." Said Harry testily, wondering what she would make of this.

"Oh did you?" she answered with mild interest, taking another sip of juice.

"Except – I was just thinking – who's going to be there?" Harry stared blankly at the floor, voicing his thoughts a little apprehensively. 

"To be honest, I don't know," she replied, shrugging her shoulders, "Not that many people knew him did they? I mean, _really _knew him. So I suppose the Order, the Weasleys, you and Hermione. I reckon that'll be it." She pursed her lips, as though thinking back to a past disagreement.

A sudden thought struck Harry – in fact, it was so blatantly obvious, that he couldn't believe he hadn't questioned it all summer.

 "Tonks, now that Fudge knows Voldemort is back_, that Dumbledore and me were telling the truth, do you think he'll clear Sirius's name?"_

Tonks shifted about just as uneasily on her seat as she had done standing up only minutes ago.

"Thing is Harry, things aren't quite as simple as that you see…"

"What's so difficult about it?" he almost laughed out of exasperation, raising his eyebrows.

Tonks glanced nervously at her watch and made to get up quickly, knocking her chair over in her promptness.

"Listen Harry, it's getting late, I have to go –"

"What is it?" Harry questioned immediately.

"Nothing, I'm late for a meeting, I really should be going." And she hurried out of the kitchen, Harry tailing behind her.

"What is it, Tonks?" he repeated suspiciously.

"Nothing – like I said, I'm late, I have to go, I'll see you on the sixteenth Harry." and with a loud crack, she apparated out of the front room.

Harry stood blinking at the spot where she had been, utterly bewildered. Why had she just left so abruptly – was she actually late for a meeting? And what exactly was so nerve-racking about Fudge clearing Sirius's name? She didn't seem to keen on that subject…Harry's thoughts whirled in confusing circles around his head, as he ran himself a hot bath.

Before long, he was half-submerged the in steaming water fluffy white bubbles floating dreamily about him… Harry couldn't help but to be reminded of Luna Lovegood. He felt a sharp twinge in his scar, and a strong sense of emotion flowed through him. Not his emotion – Voldemort's. And from what Harry could tell he seemed relatively pleased with something or other…

Harry gritted his teeth against the wave of unwanted sentiment and frowned so hard his head began to hurt from both thinking and futile resistance; how he longed for a pensieve…

A loud car engine purring outside forewarned him of the return of his Aunt and Uncle and presumably, his cousin too, though he had not seen Dudley all day. Something of a miracle really, he thought dully as he dried himself off and hid in his room; just as Uncle Vernon's booming voice rang through the house.

"What the – WHO'S SMASHED THESE GLASSES?"

Harry winced as he pulled on his other jeans – here it comes…

"POTTER!"

Sprinting the length of his room, he slammed the door shut and locked it, stacking a chair against the handle for good measure. He heard his Uncle huffing and puffing like a rhinoceros as he ascended the stairs.

"Potter!" he bellowed, "Explain yourself!"

"Mr. Potter isn't in right now, please leave your name and number and he will get back to you." Said Harry in a sickly sweet voice that overly reminded him of Dolores Umbridge. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought of her.

"Don't you give me that boy!" snarled Vernon, pounding on Harry's door, "Open up now!"

"You forgot the magic word!" cooed Harry.

"DON'T-SAY-THAT-WORD!"

"What – MAGIC? Is there something wrong with the word /magic/? I wonder how many words rhyme with magic –"

"Tragic, and that'll be how your death is described you brat!" he threatened, and Harry could picture his face, a beautifully patchy plum, his almost non-existent neck and chins wobbling furiously. Harry grinned mischievously and was about to enrage him further when there was a soft '_whumph'_ against his window, and he turned to see Ron's owl Pig hooting incessantly and flying madly around in circles.

Leaping to his feet form his place on the bed and ignoring his Uncle's continued cries of fury, he threw the window open and watched as Pig twittered excitedly and proceeded to fly around his head. With a sudden pang, he remembered that it had been Sirius who gave Pig to Ron.

Grabbing at the tiny owl he took the scroll from its scaly leg, at which it hooted triumphantly. Releasing him, Pig circumnavigated the room once or twice more – Harry distinctly heard his Uncle cry, "OWLS!" – until he flew out of the open window and soared away.

Carefully opening the letter he read through Ron's scratchy writing;

_Harry, _

_         I know you hate hearing this, but how are you? Well at least that's over with. I suppose you've got Lupin's letter by now? I got mine this morning – except I don't know if I can make it. Thing is, because Fudge actually saw Voldemort (I did just shudder) he now believes Dumbledore, so naturally, Percy does too, which is why he came home last week – he said he had a few loose ends to tie up in London – and mum and dad are in a Percy-rules mode. They want to go away for a week, you know, a family holiday to celebrate. Harry, I'm really sorry, she's sorted it out with the Order and everything. I just don't think I can make it for Sirius's Memorial unless they change the day._

_      I'll send another letter, in case anything changes, but I'm not too hopeful._

_Ron,_

_P.S. Fred and George have already made loads of money from their joke shop, Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes. Remember it's in Diagon Alley, and if you want to check it out, they'll probably give you a discount. Mums not happy – but somehow it isn't our fault._

_P.SS. Ginny split up with Dean Thomas. I had nothing to do with it._

At the last part of the note, Harry couldn't help but to smile a little, though he had the distinct feeling that in fact Ron did have something rather major to do with it.

But the main part of the letter made him stop and think – Ron wouldn't be there. After all they had gone through together last year, his best friend wasn't going to be there on what Harry considered to be the most difficult day of his life. He knew he had Hermione – but she was bound to cry, and that was not what Harry needed. He needed someone there to – well, to remain sort of neutral really. Lupin, he thought instantly, but still sighed heavily.

He folded the letter and left it on his desk top, glancing at Hedwig's empty cage as he did so. She was out hunting again, and for some reason Harry was in a way grateful. He needed to be alone to think. He'd been avoiding it all summer, but with the memorial service only three weeks away, he was going to have to come to terms with it. Sirius was dead.

He lay on his bed, and returned to his age old habit of ceiling-staring. The sky outside grew darker and as night fell over Privet Drive, it brought more than just shadows of doubt to Harry's face.

**~~~~xxxx~~~~**

**Okay, so my lovely lil reviewing chickadees, what dost thou maketh of this???? Tell me in a review!!!!**


	3. OWL Results

**Disclaimer ****– Unfortunately ( how many time have I written that word now?!) I'm not J. K. Rowling, so no money for me, only reviews – hopefully! ^_^**

**Reviewers notes at end of chapter**

****

**A/N – ****Ok, now, as the chapter title suggests, Harry is just about to get his OWL Results. I spent the best part of an hour coming up with the grading scheme, so if it seems strange then I'm sorry, but it was harder than I thought! And I've still got to do all the marks for the others… groan…**

**~**

**Chapter Three – OWL Results**

The next three days passed mostly in a haze to Harry; he seldom left his room, and if so only to use the bathroom or to eat. Petunia was sticking to her stay-silent-and-ignore him tactics, and after the Dementors last year, Dudley could still not look him in the eye. Harry often wondered what is was the Under 16's U.K. Champion Boxer could have heard when the Dementors drew close, but he did not wonder enough to ask. Uncle Vernon would still occasionally ramble irritably on about owls (usually when a perfectly innocent robin landed on the front lawn), but other than that, he shot nothing but venomous glances at Harry.

Tuesday morning dawned bright and clear, bringing with it a heavy dew fall on the lawns in Little Whinging. Harry stirred in his bed and rolled over, mumbling tetchily at the brilliant early sunlight streaming through the open curtains. Silently cursing himself for not remembering to close them (he had noticed an uninteresting pattern on the ceiling to watch last night) he pulled the covers up higher over his head to block it out.

It seemed, however, that Harry was just not meant to stay in bed late that morning, as a flock of starlings landed on the front lawn and began chorusing noisily, making an enormous racket that only a log could have slept through. And that, thought Harry, thoroughly annoyed, was probably the reason why Dudley was still in bed. Furiously, he threw the covers off himself and sat up, glancing at the cheap, once-white, now-beige plastic clock that sat on the table; 6:45.

Harry lay back down and tried to at least snooze, but the birds only seemed to sing louder, or perhaps more arrived.

Admitting defeat, Harry got up out of bed and considered breakfast. Half of him said it was still far too early to even be awake, let alone eat, but the other, stronger half told him he'd at least be able to eat without Uncle Vernon glaring viciously at him.

He looked at Hedwig, who had returned two days previously, her head tucked carefully under a gently folded snowy white wing. She sat perched in her cage, which Harry could tell from the delightful smell most definitely needed a very good cleaning out.

He yawned loudly, rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his messy black hair in an automatic attempt to flatten it, though it generally just made it worse. He sighed, wondering if his father had ever thought at least once that maybe messy hair was not as cool as he reckoned, and traipsed off down the stairs.

From the looks of it, Aunt Petunia had been shopping; the cupboards were stacked full of what seemed to be half the super-market, and the fridge freezer was at bursting point. Harry was spoilt for choice, and was debating with himself about whether he should have cereal or a big fry-up, when from behind him their came the sound of shuffling feet.

Harry spun suspiciously around, a box of unopened cornflakes still in his left hand. To his immense surprise, he found Dudley, shifting uneasily from one mammoth foot to the other, causing a slight seismic tremor every time he did so. For a moment, Harry was frozen with shock; what on earth was Dudley, of all people, doing up at 7:15 in the morning?

Harry narrowed his eyes at his huge cousin – a rather hard thing to do, as you usually lost sight of half of him when you tried.

"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.

Dudley muttered something inaudible under his breath, careful to avoid Harry eye, and continued to shift apprehensively, now fumbling with his pyjama sleeve

"Whatever." Harry snorted carelessly, and finally deciding he would prefer the cereal, he crouched down to get a bowl out.

"I know!" Dudley blurted out behind him, causing Harry to jump several feet in the air, hitting his head hard on the cupboard and, then swearing loudly. He straightened up angrily.

"What the bloody hell are you on about, Big D?" he snarled, gripping the china bowl in his hand. This was what he'd got up so early to avoid, not endure…

"I – I know." stammered Dudley, his eyes wide with fright, his many chins wobbling madly as he almost unnoticeably trembled. His blond hair stuck out at odd angles where he had slept on it, and Harry was highly amused to see he still wore Batman pyjama's; although how they still fitted him, he had no idea.

"You know what? That you're a big fat bully with an attitude problem?" Harry spat, "Cause if so, then congratulations, but we already figured it out years ago."

He headed for the fridge to get some milk, but Dudley took five great waddling strides and cut him off, barring his way like an over sized blond elephant.

"Move it, Dudders." said Harry dangerously, though he was suddenly very aware how incredibly colossal Dudley was.

Dudley however, did not reply at once. Instead, he raised his head from the point he had been staring hard at on the floor, and looked Harry straight in the eye; something he hadn't had the bottle to do for over a year.

"I know." he nodded defiantly, his voice a little stronger, and no longer shaking.

"Ok Dudders, I think we've established that you know something, but you keep forgetting to tell us what." sneered Harry. What pathetic joke was with cousin playing now?

"I mean – I think I know." Dudley's voice faltered a little, but he did not break eye contact.

"Oh my God, ring the Press! Hold the front page! Call Scotland Yard, he thinks he knows –"

"-What happened to you this year." cut in Dudley a slightly breathlessly.

Harry stopped with a jolt, but recovered quickly.

"What's that supposed to mean, 'You think you know what happened to me this year'? That's right Dudders, I went to school; big building, full of teachers and students, can't miss it – you should try it some time." said Harry very slowly, as if speaking to a five year old. Which mentally, Harry thought, he probably was.

"I think –" Dudley took a deep breath as though preparing himself for a long speech –" I think you lost some one of your friends died."

The full effect of what Dudley had just said did not sink into Harry for a few moments. He stood aping at his cousin, completely at a loss for words, much less insults he could throw.

"I'm right, aren't I?" said Dudley, breaking eye contact to gaze determinedly at the window over Harry's shoulder.

Harry could still not speak: how did – how could Dudley know this? Why did he care? Had he found an old letter from Ron or Hermione? But they've never put anything about that in any of their letters, realised Harry. Could it be that Dudley just figured it out?

"I knew it." said Dudley more confidently.

"You're wrong." Harry lied quickly, but it was too late.

"No I'm not, I can tell."

"And since when have you been the expert?" shot Harry nervously.

"Since – since – " Dudley bit his bottom lip, but would say no more.

"Since what?" said Harry intrigued. It had after all been a rhetorical question – so what was Dudley on about?

Dudley began fidgeting agitatedly with his sleeves again, and his cheeks flushed a bold magenta.

"You're not the only person in the world who has ever lost a friend." he said quite simply.

Oh I get it, thought Harry; he's building up to some ridiculously unfunny joke. Well it's sick.

"Dudley, the only person you ever knew who died was – wait… You don't know anyone who's died!" Harry realised suddenly.

"Yes I do," he replied stubbornly, "Just because I don't tell you." He emphasized the last word, eyeing Harry with dislike.

"Who then?" Harry jumped immediately, doubting very much that Dudley had ever even known a plant that had died.

"There – there was this teacher at my school. Mr. John Riddle. He was my Latin teacher – but he was found dead in his home two years last January. Doctors said it was suicide; pill overdoes. 

"Oh." said Harry, taken back. But why exactly did Dudley really care? "I thought you hated teachers?"

"I do," Dudley admitted, "Except Mr. Riddle – he was different. He was always nice to me, always gave me good grades, told me if I kept this up I would go far. No other teacher has ever had faith in me, but he did. I couldn't believe it when we found out he was dead," he shuddered, "It was awful."

Harry was dumb-struck. Not only was Dudley out of bed at a ludicrously early hour, but he was talking normally to Harry about how he'd been upset when his teacher had died. 

"It's just that lately – you've been acting like I did when he died. So I though it might have happened to you too." Dudley shrugged and turned to get some juice out of the fridge.

"Yeah… well, maybe they did." Harry just about managed. He didn't care what funny sort of emotional time Dudley was going through, he still didn't want him to know that Sirius was gone. Not yet.

"Fine – be like that." said Dudley in an off-hand way, and trudged off into the living room, slurping juice noisily from the carton as he went.

It was a few seconds before Harry remembered he still needed the milk, and hastily retrieved it from the fridge. He poured it absent-mindedly over the empty bowl, completely forgetting altogether to actually put the corn-flakes in the bowl first. His brain was still trying to register the conversation that had just taken place. For the first time ever in his life, not only had Dudley approached him for a chat, but he had not hit him in the process.

Bringing a spoon full of milk up to his mouth, it was already down his front before he realised his aim had been wide. Harry was utterly bewildered; was he really that easy to red, just like a book? Could Dudley honestly has just guessed that – or had he found out some other way? Or, for the first time in his pathetic life, had he actually been telling the truth?

It took another two or three misses with the spoon before Harry remembered he need to put the cereal in the bowl as well. Sighing, he tipped the box up, and a little plastic freebie fell out with a loud splash into the milk. Harry paused, rolled his eyes, and threw the tiny toy dog across the room. Why on earth would anyone want those stupid things anyway? he thought.

There was suddenly the soft and unmistakable 'thumph' of wings against the window and ay once Harry looked up to see a handsome tawny owl perched on the window sill. Not recognising it, he frowned, but got up to open the window all the same. As he did so, the owl glanced down its beak at him in a stuck up manner, then formally stuck out its leg, to which a smart brown envelope was attached. Harry carefully removed the letter, which was addressed to: Mr. Harry Potter, The Kitchen Table, Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. With a scuffle of wings, the owl took flight and disappeared behind the houses. 

Harry snorted – he'd never met a snobby owl before… well, maybe Percy's…

Curiously, he turned the letter over to see a closed wax seal. He knew at once it was not from Hogwarts, as the seal was blue; in fact, it was a print of a small scroll and quill, which scribbled furiously across the tiny parchment, and a wand, emitting five golden stars.

Harry froze: beneath this read, _WIZARDING EXAMINATION AUTHORITY_.

His OWL results had finally arrived.

Trembling slightly, Harry gently opened the envelope, half-desperate to know, half resisting the urge to throw it in the bin.

Inside, he found two pieces of parchment. He cautiously opened the first, leaving the second neatly folded on the table top and avoided looking at it. Instead, he opened the first and read:

_Dear Mr. Potter, _

_On behalf of the Wizarding Examination Authority, I would like to thank you for your patience in awaiting your results. I am afraid they are a little late, due to unlooked for events meaning a lack of free staff available to mark them, but I'm sure you'll now find that they have been assessed to the highest quality._

_This years set of results have been particularly promising, especially in Potions, Charms, Transfiguration and most pleasingly, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Indeed, the marks were so high that several grade boundaries have been raised to see that students reach their full potential. The grading scheme for each subject is as follows:_

**ARITHMACY**_ – O= 85%+, E = 75%+, A = 65%+, P = 45%+, D = 35%+/-___

**ASTRONOMY – **O = 85%+, E = 75%+, A = 60%+, P = 50%+, D = 40%+/-

**CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES** – O = 80%+, E = 65%+, A = 50%+, P = 40%+, D = 30%+/-

**CHARMS **– O = 95%+, E = 85%+, A = 75%+, P = 65%+, D = 55%+/-

**DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS – **O = 95%+, E = 90%+, A = 80%+, P = 75%+, D = 65%+/-

**DIVINATION** – O = 75%+, E = 65%+, A = 55%+, P = 45%+, D = 35%+/-

**HERBOLOGY – **O = 80%+, E = 70%+, A = 60%+, P = 50%+, D = 40%+/-

**HISTORY OF MAGIC **– O =85%+, E = 75%+, A = 65%+, P = 55%+, D = 45%+/-

**MUGGLE STUDIES – **O = 85%+, E = 75%+, A = 65%+, P = 45%+, D = 40%+/-

**POTIONS** – O = 95%+, E = 85%+, A = 75%+, P = 65%+, D = 55%+/-

**RUNES – **O = 85%+, E = 75%+, A = 65%+, P = 55%+, D = 45%+/-

**TRANSFIGURATION** – O = 95%+, E = 90%+, A = 80%+, P = 75%+, D = 65%+/-

_For subjects in which both theory and practical exams were taken, the average grade of the two has been put forward. On your result however, you will find both sets of results, as well as the overall grade._

_I wish you the best of luck for the future and sincerely hope you receive the results you require for further education or your chosen profession._

_Yours Faithfully, _

_Professor G. Marchbanks._

Harry's hands were now shaking badly, and he put the letter down, staring very hard at the unopened piece of parchment lying in front of him. He tried to swallow, but he found his throat had become dry and like sand paper, and his heart was pounding, his palms sweaty and clammy. This was the most nerve-racking thing pf Harry's life, surpassing even his sorting fears on his first night at Hogwarts. He supposed he would be excited when his results came, but never this. He was so anxious he felt physically sick, and his insides writhed squeamishly, like hundreds of slimy snakes slithering around, and ridiculous scenarios played over and over in his head... Maybe if he didn't get the OWL's he needed he could join Fred and George in their joke shop? Be a caretaker or something… Or maybe he could take Hagrid's job as Game Keeper? … Or a street cleaner...?

Very, very slowly, he reached out a trembling hand to clasp the seemingly innocent letter. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, tried to stay his hands, and made to open it – when from the living room suddenly blasted the sound of a blaring T.V. It brought Harry back down to earth with an almighty thud, and it dawned on him that his results were probably best opened in the privacy of his own room.

Clearing away his uneaten and now unappetizingly soggy cereal, he climbed the stairs quietly so as not to distract Dudley (who was watching a children's breakfast show) and silently closed his bedroom door behind him, chucking himself down on the bed.

This was it; the moment he had been waiting for. Mentally grabbing his shoulders and shaking them vigorously, he began to unfold the parchment. But his hands were now juddering so badly that he realised he would barely be able to read anything anyway. He clenched the paper hard, struggling to steady his hands; and to a certain extent at least, it worked, though he was now gripping the letter so tightly his knuckles had turned white…

… There they were. His results. Harry could feel his blood pumping furiously around his body, and his heart was drumming endlessly somewhere in the region of his Adams Apple… He scanned down the page, and for some strange reason immediately noticed that they were in alphabetical order.

Astronomy

_Practical – 69%_

_Theory – 79%_

_Overall – 74% _

_Grade – A_

Care of Magical Creatures

_Practical – 65%_

_Grade – E_

Charms

_Practical – 89%_

_Theory – 81%_

_Overall – 85%_

_Grade – E_

Defence Against the Dark Arts

_Practical – 99%_

_Theory – 97%_

_Overall – 98%_

_Grade – O_

Divination

_Practical – 33%_

_Grade – D_

Herbology

_Practical – 66%_

_Grade – A_

History of Magic

_Theory – 65%_

_Grade – A_

Potions

_Practical – 90%_

_Theory – 85%_

_Overall – 87.5%_

_Grade – E_

Transfiguration

_Practical – 96%_

_Theory – 94%_

_Overall – 95%_

_Grade – O_

Very gradually, Harry's breathing and heart rate began to returned to normal, and his brain began to function properly again. Astronomy, A. Well, it wasn't like he had been expecting an O after all, but he supposed the incident they had seen from the North Tower on the night of the practical exam had probably effected his mark – yeah, that was it…

Care of Magical Creatures, E. Harry couldn't help but to beam with pride at this. So it may not be so very useful to him if he became an Auror, but he knew Hagrid would be thrilled with him. He'd done Hagrid proud at least.

Charms, E. Harry felt his heart do a little 'whoop!' of joy in his chest, leaving him a little light headed. Charms were something he needed after all, and he remembered he Ron and he has spent long boring hours in the Gryffindor Tower while the younger years enjoyed the summertime, memorizing every stupid spell under the sun it had seemed then. But looking back on it, Harry found himself thinking, well… there weren't that many _really_…

Defence Against the Dark Arts, O. Harry's grin grew even wider, spreading right across his face. Brilliant! He'd though he would get that … and by the looks of it, an extremely high O at that. A fleeting thought flew across Harry's mind; maybe I could be a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher… He had, after all, successfully organised and trained up the members of the DA the previous year, and he'd done a pretty - , no _very good job with them, so why not? Harry continued to ponder this as he carried on reading._

Divination, D. Ah well, we saw that one coming, Harry thought to himself, then rolled his eyes at the use of the terrible pun. At least he would never, ever have to do it again now.

Herbology, A. Harry couldn't help but to think he could probably have gotten higher than this if he had really tried, but he hadn't. I hope Neville got an O though, he thought randomly.

History of Magic, A. There was no doubt about it, Harry was plain stunned to have passed at all. Especially because he had missed the end of the exam… Harry hastily pushed the memory of that day to the back of his mind.

Potions, E. Uh-oh. Personally, he thought him getting an E was nothing short of a miracle… but hadn't McGonagall said that he'd need Potions if he wanted to be an Auror? And Snape only took on students who received 'Outstanding' in their OWL's. Harry gulped and wondered if the Professor would give him _real remedial Potions lessons… he shuddered at the prospect. Perhaps Dumbledore would have a word with him… after all, his Practical mark was very high – it was his theory that let him down. Sighing, Harry moved onto the last subject._

Transfiguration, O. Harry felt his spirits suddenly soaring again. McGonagall at least would allow him to continue, even if the O had only just been scrapped. But that was beside the point.

He read and re-read he results a couple of times more, careful to take in all the information in case he had missed something out.

In her cage, Hedwig had woken and was now eyeing Harry with mild interest. He supposed his facial expressions had been quite amusing to watch.

"Morning, Hedwig," he said brightly, "Don't suppose you feel like sending a letter to Ron and Hermione for me, do you?"

Hedwig fluttered her wings elegantly in response, so Harry opened her cage. She hopped gracefully down onto the table and waited patiently for him to write.

Harry grabbed the nearest quill and piece of parchment he could find and was about to scribble furiously across its surface when a thought struck him. Maybe he shouldn't include any figures just yet; he had no doubt that Hermione had received all 'Outstanding's', but he wasn't so sure about Ron and knew how sensitive he could be.

After sucking his quill for a few minutes, h finally wrote out two times:

_I just got my OWL results – how about you? They're OK I guess, but I'm really pleased with my DADA and Transfiguration one though! Potions may be a problem… What about you?_

_Harry_

Harry sat back to admire it. Short, simple, sweet. Hopefully, no one would be in anyway offended by that, and he carefully rolled up both letters, attaching them to Hedwig's leg. He offered an arm for her and she jumped on, her snowy white feathers brushing his face. He crossed the room to the open window, and with an affectionate nip on Harry's ear, she soared out and away into the summer morning air.

Harry watched her go, and suddenly remembered that it was his birthday in three days. His stomach gave a funny jolt – he would be sixteen. Still grinning happily to himself, and feeling that nothing could burst his bubble today, he quickly changed and walked off with a bounce in his step to finally eat some breakfast, after an unusually eventful daybreak.

~

**Oooooh**, what could this all mean, preciousss?****** Damn it – sorry, wrong book again… **

**Reviewer Replies!**

****

**wowsergirl**** – **Wow, thanks! Yeah, that cliffie normally gets people… Hope you enjoyed that chapter too!****

**Jade Rose**** – Lol, Harry the Pisser Offer! We shall see… Thanx for reviewing!**

**magickalstar135**** – Yes sir, right away sir! Lol, glad you seem to like it; along with many other fics of mine, it would seem! ^_^**

**TeamExtremeGirl**** – OMG, thank you so much! I'm incredibly flattered by that statement – what a lovely person you are! ^_^ Seriously though, comments like that mean a hell of a lot to me. Thank you!**

**Sarah – Hellllooooo! I'm fine thank you very much, you? Lol, even though you've read most of this fic so far, ey? ^_~ Yeah, I love horses – don't have one yet, but my mum wants to get one in the spring time or something. I can't wait!!!**


	4. New Neighbours at Number Nine

**Disclaimer – ****Well, much to the dismay of my mother and myself, I don't own any right, and therefore am not making any money. Sigh One day, one day…**

**General Ramblings!**

**Mmmm****, strangely enough, a lot of you noticed how a certain John Riddle caught your eye! Weird that, isn't it? ^_~ As for the part he'll have to play later on, we'll have to wait an see. Believe me, if I was completely sure, I'd make you pay me to tell you. Hang on, would that be fraud? Damn it… ^_~**

**And as for how Harry's feeling – well, to be perfectly honest, I'm going on complete made up stuff here. I've never been unfortunate enough to loose someone I love who was close – unless you count my rabbit Crunchie when I was 8 – so I don't really know what someone in Harry's position would be going through. So if you think the feelings he's feeling are utterly wrong for someone in his situation, then you know why!**

**Reviewers**

**Ah, faithful, lovely, rewarding reviewers, who make this all so worth while when those stupid, evil good-for-nothing plot bunnies bounce off into the horizon…******

**Jade Rose**** – Lol, yeah, is interesting isn't it?! Who _could_ that person be? ^_~ Glad you're enjoying it!**

**wowsergirl**** – Thank you very much! I hope this is just as '_great', as you so flatteringly put it ^_~_**

**TeamExtremeGurl**** – Ok, ok, what say we meet half way? Like a compromise? I thank  you for being a brilliantly loyal reviewer, who has this amazing talent of making egos huge, and you can  - well, I tink you do it best… ^_~ Hope you enjoy this too!**

**Magnolia Lane**** – Thanks! Well, like I already said, I'm fumbling into unknown territory here… But I'm doing my best! Cheers for reviewing, hope you enjoy this chapter too ^_~**

**Magickalstar135 – ****Teehee****, really?**** Well, you're my new best friend too! ^_~ Hope you enjoy this as well!**

**sazyou_7**** – Heya saz! Howz u?! HAPPY BIRTHDAY BTW! Hope you had a great one – this chapter is therefore dedicated just to you! Enjoy ^_~**

**And know, on with ze story…..**

**~**

****

**Chapter Four – New Neighbours at Number Nine**

That same day, the weather seemed to have decided that it would return once more to swelteringly high temperatures, and by midday Harry lay sprawled flat out on the front lawn. His sticky, sweaty shirt clung unpleasantly to his back, and his jeans were rolled up to reveal a pair of thin and knobbly knees.

Inside the living room he could here the weather reporter blabbering on in an annoying cheery voice, something about there being a heat wave. You don't say, thought Harry rolling his eyes, and wiping his dripping brow. He could also just about detect some pathetic moans and mutterings from Dudley as he sat his mammoth sized rear in front of the noisy electrical fan in an attempt to cool down. Not that it made any difference; in this heat, it only started blowing out hot air anyway.

From up the road, his ears picked up the excitable laughter of little children as they played in the park, safe in the knowledge that Big D's Gang wasn't around to beat them up. Until evening at least, when it cooled down, and the sloth like creature that was Dudley set out to prey on smaller victims… What Harry couldn't quite understand was where they got all that blasted energy from to shout, let alone play.

Sighing, he watched the odd fluffy cotton-wool like cloud go sailing lazily by. To Harry's eyes, the one right above him now looked suspiciously like a dragon; though he doubted very much that a forty foot cuddly white dragon would be soaring over Little Whinging. Then again, it had been Dementors last year…

The sudden loud revving of an old engine jolted him from his random thoughts. Propping himself up on one elbow, a disbelieving grin spread across his face as he saw possibly the most ancient old-banger  in the history of all old-bangers loudly making its way up the street. It was a run down and rusty white delivery van, the name 'JASON AND SON; HOME FROM HOME DELIVERY' just about visible beneath the dust and mud splashed up the side. The engine beneath the bonnet groaned and strained itself into moving, and every few seconds the exhaust would backfire with an almighty 'BANG!' that shook all the windows on the street.

By the time the van had passed Number Four (which took surprisingly few seconds) the entire female population of the street had pulled back their lacy curtains and were peering disapprovingly down their noses at it, mumbling disgruntledly to their partners about 'keeping up standards and appearances'.

Finally, spluttering and coughing, it came to a jerky halt outside a house five down from their own, beside a large, 'For Sale' sign. 

"Oh, the new neighbours are here, Vernon!" he heard Petunia practically squeal in excitement. New neighbours? So the Turners had finally moved out then? Not that they were any great loss whatsoever – the old couple had been digging their claws into life for the past ten years, while their son had unsuccessfully tried time and time again to dump then in a home. Apparently, he had finally triumphed.

Harry lay back down and continued gazing absent-mindedly at the clouds, mulling over in his mind that mornings pleasing results…

Up the street, he heard car doors slam and the cranking of the van tailgate as the deliverymen began yelling orders at each other.

"'Ere Mike, 'and us that box there, woodya?"

"Steve, I'm just checkin' me phone!"

"You got the other end o that chest proper like, John?"

"Steady now, Phil!"

Harry's throat began to feel parched – high time for some lemonade, he thought, and groggily made to get up.

"Daddy, where shall I put the box of Green-winged Werehog evidence?"

Harry froze half way I the motion of sitting up – that was the second voice in a week that he'd recognised very clearly…

 "Be quiet Luna! Just leave it in the front room!" a man's hasty voice replied.

"Ok, Daddy…"

Sitting bolt up right, the days scorching heat forgotten for now, Harry could just see the white blonde hair of Luna Lovegood disappear into the house. This couldn't be happening could it? Luna, moving to Little Whinging? As in to Privet Drive? As in to five-doors-down from Harry? Only one way to find out, he realised, and jumped quickly to his feet.

"Aha!" screeched Aunt Petunia's voice behind him, causing him to jump out of his skin. He spun around to face her with what he hoped was a look of great distaste.

"You can go give this to the new neighbours," she ordered him bossily, and handing a flowery wrapped package out of the window, "And do try not to make a completely hideous first impression." she added disgustedly, then stalked away into the house. 

Harry shrugged and headed towards the newly bought house, shaking the unknown box to his ear. A loud chinking noise left him supposing it was old wine glasses or the like. As he approached, one of the delivery men turned and saw him.

"'Ere, couldn't give us hand, could ya lad?" he asked, struggling to keep a huge chestnut wardrobe tumbling out onto the road.

"Sure." said Harry, and dumping the package on the path he moved to help the man ease the giant wooden construction off the van onto a metal trolley.

"Cheers," said the man gratefully, and clapped him on the shoulder.

Harry smiled and retrieved the present from the floor, walking up the winding and over grown path of Number Nine's front garden. From within the house he heard the man's voice again, this time some what pained.

"Luna please, just leave it alone!" he practically begged. Out of the front door stepped a lanky and tall man, clearly over six foot, with dusky mousy hair and a weak chin, wearing a forest green jumper and what looked like fairly new jeans. As soon as he saw Harry, his amber eyes lit up with delight.

"Well hello there neighbour!" he said cheerily – quite unlike Luna altogether, from his appearance to the way he moved and spoke. Harry started to think perhaps he had made a mistake…

"That for us?" said the man, pointing slightly excitedly at the parcel under Harry's arm.

"Huh? Oh – sorry, yes." grinned Harry, handing it over. He winced a little at the awful blindingly bright magenta roses plastered all over it.

"Why thank you! I'm Mr. Lovegood, by the way." he beamed happily, clearly undeterred by the wrapping paper. Harry couldn't help but think if he had been Mr. Lovegood he would have been half way to Australia by now.

"Harry Potter." nodded Harry, reaching out a hand to shake, "I live with my Aunt and Uncle, the Dursleys, at Number Four."

Mr. Lovegood paused for a second, and his eyes did the familiar flick-trip to Harry's fringe and back.

"Ah…" he said, realisation dawning, "Well, it's an honour to meet you Harry." he winked, shaking Harry's hand vigorously.

"You too sir."

"Oh please, call me Jack – 'Sir' and 'Mr. Lovegood' sound so formal…" he insisted, waving his hand dismissively. 

"Would you like some help unloading?" Harry offered politely. The prospect of having another wizard living a mere breath away, be it the Lovegood's, was the second best piece of news Harry had had that summer – and he definitely wanted to keep it that way.

"How kind of you!" said Jack, somewhat thankfully Harry thought, "Hang on, I'll just get my daughter, she can tell you where to put things… then again… Luna! Luna, there's someone here love!"

"Coming Daddy!" Luna's dreamy voice floated out to them, closely followed by the girl herself. The first thing Harry noticed was that she had not changed one bit. But then, they'd only been apart for a month, that wasn't that long really. In fact, compared to the rather flustered look of her father, she appeared almost bored with the situation.

"Hey Luna!" waved Harry.

"Hello Harry, "replied Luna in a daze-like way, and with her eyes being so wide anyway, Harry couldn't tell whether she was surprised to see him or not.

"Isn't it nice to have a friend so near by?" Jack continued to beam.

Luna smiled airily back at her father and nodded.

"Well, Harry here has offered to help, so if you would just like to show him where to put things?"

"Sure Daddy." and she floated more than walked down the path with Harry.

Neither of them said anything until they had climbed past the delivery men into the back of the van. As they each grabbed the end of a large mahogany chest, Harry caught Luna's eye.

 "So, what made you move here from – from wherever you were?" asked Harry was they hauled the chest up.

"Daddy wanted to be nearer to King's Cross – we come from Cornwall you see, so its an awful long way to travel each year," she breezed as she stepped lightly down from the van, carrying the heavy chest as though it was feather light.

"Cornwall? You don't have an accent." grinned Harry.

"Oh, we come from London originally. Mummy worked for the Ministry, so it was close to her work place. When she died, we moved away."

"I see… so… how's your summer been then?" queried Harry, attempting to make carrying the chest look as easy as Luna managed to.

"Oh, quite exciting actually – Daddy and I went on a holiday to Sweden to try and see some Swedish Invisible Ridge-Backed Reindeer, as an article for The Quibbler."

"Did you see any?"

"Of course not, they're invisible!" laughed Luna, as though that sort of thing was just pure common sense – which, Harry reminded himself, it probably was.

They stepped carefully through the doorway of the house, and at once Harry was hit with the strong smell of rum. He cough a little.

"I know – Daddy thinks the couple here before us were alcoholics." sighed Luna, as though this too bored her.

Harry swiftly nodded in agreement.

"So how's your summer been then?" Luna asked, as they carefully placed the chest in the front room.

"Oh – well, you know…" Harry trailed off. In actual fact she didn't know, but that was that. 

"Didn't you get your OWL results yet?"

"Oh - yeah! I got them this morning!" said Harry more brightly.

"I take it you did well then." smiled Luna as they stepped back out into the scorching sunlight, Harry felt beads of sweat running down his brow now, but Luna seemed to permanently keep a fresh and chilled appearance. 

"Not bad really," shrugged Harry, "Got a really high O in Defence Against the Dark Arts… few E's and A's… oh, and a D in Divination." he finished proudly. Luna inclined her head in acknowledgement.

"Well done Harry," she continued to smile a little dreamily, as if it was plastered on her face, "So do you have a better idea of what career you want now?"

"Well," started Harry, "I was thinking –"

"Luna!" Jack's voice called form inside the delivery van.

"Coming Daddy!" she replied, and without waiting for Harry to finish, she skipped up the garden path towards him.

Skipping up the garden path, Harry thought to himself strangely. Well, I suppose it is Luna…

Following her at a somewhat slower and more dignified pace, he reached the van just as Luna helped her father to step out.

"Well, that seems to be the worst of it," he said, brushing himself off, "Thanks for your help Harry. Now, time for lunch, don't you agree?"

Both Harry and Luna nodded.

"Right, well then, if I gave you some money, I don't suppose you two could nip down to the nearest shops and get some pasties and the like could you?" asked Jack, burying his hands in his pockets to retrieve a worn leather wallet.

"Sure Daddy – Harry can lead me down there, can't you?" she said, looking pointedly at him. 

"Why not? I'm not – _expected _home for a while." In fact, he was expected to stay away from home, but never mind…

"Ok then, here's twenty quid," said Jack as he handed the crisp note over, "Don't be too long now!" he added as they set off down the street.

They were just passing number four when Aunt Petunia stuck her horse-boned face out of the window, wearing an expression like a dog backside, startling them both.

"And _where do you think –" she began piercingly, but stopped dead when she saw Luna. Harry could feel her assessing the Ravenclaw fifth year, from her well used trainers to her slightly shabby sky blue T-shirt. He was sure he could see the cogs in her mind working out whether she was good enough to live there or not…_

"Harry, who's this?" the started again, this time in a strained polite voice.

"Luna Lovegood – new neighbour." answered Harry blankly, and turned to walk on.

"Oh really? How lovely," Aunt Petunia blatantly lied, "Where are you going now?"

"Shops for lunch."

"Oh, I see… well I'm afraid you'll have to go later."

"No, really, I'm going now –"

"But you can't! There's – there's… someone on the phone for you!" she said a little shrilly, her patience clearly beginning to wear thin.

"I'll ring them back."

"No _really Harry, you have to take this call _now._"_

Luna stood gazing from Harry to Aunt Petunia and back again.

"Harry its ok, we can go later –"

"There! You see! Its fine! _Now get in here!"_

"Fine." muttered Harry, and saying goodbye to Luna, he stormed angrily up to the front door, which swung widely open. With a final apologetic glance at Luna, who was already wandering back down the road, the door slammed shut loudly behind him.

He rounded on his Aunt with a face like thunder.

"What was that for?" he demanded, "I know full well there's no one on the phone for me –"

"No," replied a scathing, horribly familiar voice that was most definitely not his Aunt's, "But there is someone waiting." And out of the living room stepped a rather ruffled looking, greasy-haired, hooked-nosed wizard.

"Surprise, Potter." scowled Professor Severus Snape.

**~**

**Whaa, whaa, whaa??? 'Who the hell, what the hell's going down?' as the _Black Eyed Peas_ would no doubt put it… Ah, well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you!?!?! Hope you enjoyed this, please review!**

**Loadsa love, Estel**


	5. The International United Federation of W...

**Disclaimer:**** Unlike Rowling, I'm not the richest woman in ****Britain****. Damn. Ah well, that's life…**

**A/N: ****So then, here we are again! I'm sorry I haven't been updating sooner – time is running short these days. Sighs And I intend to see the Return of the King at least 10 times before it goes out of the cinemas… So what with exams, I've been falling behind a little. That and other fics… **

**But there you go! Good old chapter five, aren't you all lucky lil beans? Reviewer replies at the end of the chapter. Enjoy! ^_^**

**~**

**Chapter Five – The International United Federation of Wizards**

Harry stood shell-shocked, staring at his Potions Professor. What the hell did he want? What was he doing here, in Privet Drive, of all places? And why had the world's wizarding population suddenly decided to turn up in Little Whinging?!

"Well don't just stand there, boy," drawled Snape, "Get moving!"

"Get moving?" echoed Harry, feeling his boil beginning to pound through his veins. The greasy, good-for-nothing –

"Well ho else do you expect to leave here, Potter?" said Snape lazily, his beetle-black eyes poring into Harry's.

"Leave?" repeated Harry, startled and caught off guard.

"Unless you wish to – er – stay here, that is." said Snape, eyeing with great distaste the immaculate front room of the Dursleys.

"Well he's not wanted!" snapped a sharp, shrill voice to Harry's side. Aunt Petunia stood defiantly, hands on hips, the expression on her face one of utter disgust at having two wizards on the house.

"Don't worry, I'm going," Harry shot back, and made to go up the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going Potter?" droned Snape, the tone of his voice making it plain that we would rather be any where but where he was right now.

"I'm going to pack." replied Harry coldly.

"You mean you haven't already?" frowned the hook-nosed man, gazing questioningly at Harry.

"Well, I thought waiting on the front door step would be a little pointless, when you consider that I wasn't expecting anyone for another two weeks," said Harry sarcastically. He hadn't been expecting the slime-ball either, but he kept that to himself.

Snape hissed violently under his breath.

"Watch your tongue, Potter," he uttered dangerously, "You know full well the letter said –"

"What letter?" Harry cut in irritably.

"The letter you got last Saturday, Potter," said Snape, his teeth clenched, his eyes rolling to the ceiling. This boy grew more and more stupid every time he saw him, he was sure of it…

"But that said someone would be here on the fifteenth." Harry could feel his temper rising higher.

"No you fool, the second letter!"

"I didn't get a second letter!"

Snape froze.

"What?" The sneering hint in his voice had vanished, and the cold light in his eyes was gone; now he spoke with a tone of alarm, of sharp trepidation, and in his eyes was an unreadable emotion, something close to fear.

"I got no second letter – Tonks was here -"

"Who was here?!" Snape cut in curtly, whipping out his wand, and gripping it tightly. Aunt Petunia gave a sudden gasp and clasped her hands to her mouth. 

"Be silent you stupid woman!" barked Snape. 

"Tonks, she was here last week," Harry told him, curiosity over coming his resentment towards this man. Something was up - something big; what was it? 

"Potter, Tonks cannot have been here last Saturday, because the whole of the Order were in a top secret meeting. Tonks included." 

Realisation dawned slowly on Harry's mind... 

"So if that wasn't Tonks..." said Harry incredulously. But hadn't Dumbledore said only a month ago that he was safe in Privet Drive? 

"Just because the Dark Lord cannot touch you here Potter, does not mean his minions can't." nodded Snape, as though reading Harry's mind (and considering he was an expert Legimens, he probably had been),"This being the case, there isn't time to pack - we need to leave. **Now**." 

"But what about my stuff -" 

"Now Potter!" snapped Snape, and striding swiftly forwards, before Harry had a chance to dodge or step back, the professor had his arm in a cold vice-like grip. He turned to Aunt Petunia. 

"If you value your lives, I suggest you leave as well." advised Snape, though the regret that he had to do so was evident form his voice, and muttering a few well chosen words under his breath, both he and Harry vanished from the living room of number four with a loud 'crack!'. 

Harry felt as though he was flying head first at break-neck speeds through a black, starless void, Snape's spider like hand still clenched tightly around his upper arm. The sound of rushing air whirled about his ears and his eyes began watering furiously; then just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. 

Both Harry and Snape landed feet first on a hard yet smooth and shiny marble surface, though Snape with far more grace; as soon as they landed, he released his grip on Harry's arm, whose knees buckled beneath him with the impact and he stumbled forwards onto the floor. Snape gave an almost inaudible 'tut' under his breath and moved quickly away, towards a large congregation on people who seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Harry and Severus had just arrived.

Clambering to his feet, Harry gaped around himself in awe; an impossibly high, steep-sloped domed ceiling rose up above him practically out of sight. Images of every magical being, beast or spirit imaginable from House Elves to Thestrals, from Centaurs to Dragons, and of course Wizards and Witches were each hand painted, everyone outlined thinly with brilliant gold inlay. Down the walls were thrown heavily embroidered tapestries of great long scriptures in languages that Harry couldn't understand, but others depicted fierce and blood-thirsty battles between the forces of light and dark, of good and evil. In medieval styled iron-wrought brackets upon the walls where held mammoth brightly flaming torches, chasing away all shadows from the grand hall. 

Staring now across the hall's slightly dusty marble floor, Harry saw not far away a great mosaic laid into the stone, of a elegantly soaring Pegasus. His silver tipped wings were outstretched like an eagles, as he weaved between cotton wool like, candy floss clouds, its scarlet tinted golden hooves glinting like rubies in the glorious sunset behind it, that gave his gleaming snowy white coat a summer rose and autumn lavender hue. Its glittering sapphire coloured eyes twinkled brightly, and beneath it in swirling, extravagant letters read the clear inscription:

**_United we stand, divided we fall; for light and love shall conquer all._****__**

Just away from the mosaic, the large and noisy gathering of wizards had just seemed to have noticed Harry and Snape's arrival. Some turned and gazed curiously at Harry, some shot him dark, ominous looks, muttering to one another, while otehrs began talking even more animatedly and agitatedly. In a way, it sort of reminded Harry of the Quidditch World Cup the year before; except that had been an excited, bustling atmosphere - here, Harry could sense tension and heated tempers. He was amazed at the sheer range of cultures that stood before him, all the same; oriental wizards in rich purple robes were gathered in deep conversation, their hands moving irritably and quickly as they talked with one another; snippets of Spanish, French, and German wafted over to Harry, though for his part he had no idea what so ever what they were talking about, and it suddenly occured to him that he had never been abroad; and a fairly respectable number of American accents rose up above all the rest in hot and violent discussion. All Harry could see were people of every race imaginable standing before him.

Suddenly from amid the mess and confusion, and distinct and familiar voice boomed across the hall, echoing up towards the unfathomably high rafters. 

"Harry! HARRY! Over here!" 

Looking in search of the owner, Harry saw a pair of arms waving frantically at him, attached to a rather ruffled and tired looking Charlie Weasley. 

Harry waved back in somewhat relieved acknowledgement and noting the fact that Snape was no where to be seen, he moved off towards Charlie. 

"Harry, what are you doing here?" exclaimed Charlie breathlessly, his flaming red hair vivid in the light of the torches. 

 "I was going to ask you the same thing," replied Harry, his eyebrows raised, "Where is 'here' anyway?"

"Oh – somewhere in the Himalayas I think…" mumbled Charlie distractedly, as he began herding Harry away from the raucous crowd.

"You think? How did you get here if you don't know?" questioned Harry suspiciously.

"You managed it, didn't you?" laughed Charlie nervously, "Though it's beyond me why – ah, there they are… Alistair! Remus!"

Charlie motioned across the hall to where two strained and tired looking wizards had emerged from behind a heavy wooded door. Lupin was running a hand through his unnaturally grey hair exasperatedly, and large back shadows were clearly visible under his eyes. Moody looked as if he was growling something in an aggravated manner to Lupin, while his electric blue eye swiveled around at lighting speeds, trying to catch the movement of every witch or wizard in the hall. 

When they saw Charlie waving at them, they strode swiftly over and despite being so obviously exhausted, Lupin still managed a weak, but warming smile. 

"Hello Harry," he greeted him somewhat less enthusiastically than he meant to, "Bet this is a shock huh?"

"Put it lightly, why don't you…" muttered Moody.

"You could say that," frowned Harry, still utterly confused – what the hell was going on?

"Nothing wrong with a good surprise every now and then, Potter," twitched Moody, "Keeps you on your toes. How are you doing?"

"Well actually –"

"Great, now follow us," Moody barked, cutting sharply in. Bewildered and slightly put out, Moody led Harry and the others back across the hall towards the door.

Picking up his pace, Harry drew alongside the old Auror as he headed purposefully towards the exit. 

"Moody, why am I here? What's going on?" demanded Harry, getting annoyed now that no one had yet thought to tell him what was happening. Moody grunted and jerked his head towards the door.

"You'll find out soon enough. The rest of the Order are in there – dear Lord, this has caused one hell of a big uproar, Potter," he added, as they came to a halt.

"I might have guessed that," Harry mumbled incoherently under his breath.

"No, no, no, not with that lot," Moody waved his gnarled hand dismissively at the congregation, "They've got nothing to do with it – yet. But the way things are going…"

"Huh – what?! Will some one please give me a straight answer for once?!" Harry exclaimed frustrated.

Moody it seemed ignored him, or chose not to notice. 

"Now whatever you do, you must be clear and consistent. Got that boy?" At the blank expression on Harry's face added, "In the room, Potter!"

Utterly perplexed, Harry surveyed Moody and Lupin in confusion, but nodded.

"Good," growled Moody, "In you go then," and with a helpful shove, he flung the door open and pushed Harry inside.

The loud, irritable chatter and conversation that hit Harry when he first walked in died almost immediately, but the atmosphere was ten times tenser than it had been outside, and as Charlie, Lupin and Moody slid in silently behind him and closed the door, absolute silence fell. 

The room was fairly small compared to the hall outside, but as rooms went it was quite large. It was wholly circular with a flat, unadorned ceiling; the walls were painted a deep crimson red. The floor seemed to shine seamlessly scarlet as though it was made entirely from the world's largest and most polished ruby. In side the room was a wide, round wooden ring shaped table, about which every Order member Harry could ever remember seeing were sat, watching him intently, and then some to boot. Although, he noticed quickly, Mrs. Weasley was no where to be seen.

At the far end though, in midnight blue, velvety robes was Dumbledore. His elbows were rested on the surface before him, his finger tips placed together in thought as he listened attentively to Snap, who was hissing something quickly in his ear. Dumbledore nodded and smiled in a fatherly way at him. Harry instantly noted that he, as well as the vast majority of the Order, looked as if they had not had a decent nights sleep in weeks. 

"Good day, Harry," said Dumbledore, his voice light enough; but his bright blue eyes seemed to forget to shine as freely behind his half-moon spectacles. "Firstly, I must apologise for all that has just happen to you, in that you have not been told. You will discover all you desire in a minute, no doubt. But before that Harry, it is more important than I can even begin to stress that you tell us exactly what was said between you and the imposter –"

"Imposter?" interrupted Harry loudly, earning himself a few frowns from the sixty or so people seated there. "So it wasn't Tonks, was it?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out, Harry," explained Dumbledore, "We need you to tell us what happened so we can prevent any disasters. Do you know where you are?" he added, more as an after thought.

Harry shrugged.

"Charlie couldn't tell me."

"No… No, he wouldn't be able to. You stand now in the Headquarters of the International United Federation of Wizards – least ways, the hall outside is. This is makeshift for the Order," he elucidated, gesturing around the room, "known as the Red Room." he added with a little flickering twinkle in his eye.

"International United – what?" asked Harry, even more confused.

Dumbledore smiled. 

"The Order of the Phoenix, Harry, is but one of hundreds of secret organizations like it all over the globe. A long time ago, when rumours of Voldemort's first rise to power were whispered in the shadows, the International United Federation of Wizards was formed."

"But if it's so huge then why –"

"Why have you never heard of it before?"

Harry nodded.

"Because no one, save for those who are members, know it exists. Voldemort has no idea, and so through his one weakness the entire wizarding world has been united. At least those who choose to fight have," Dumbledore added darkly, though the meaning was lost on Harry in his currently puzzled state.

Harry pondered the new piece of information – had this been what Dumbledore had meant when he said that Charlie Weasley was trying to recruit members from abroad? Was he trying to unite them with the Federation?

Yet even over all of that, the thing Harry found strangest , though he had missed it first time around, was that not a single person in the room had gasped, or flinched, or shuddered, or made any sort of reaction when Dumbledore had spoken Voldemort's name. Not even Snape, who stood silently behind the old wizard, peering coldly at Harry through inky black eyes. 

"But sir," said Harry suddenly, a thought springing to mind, "If this is the United Federation of Wizards, then why is the hall painted with all magical creatures?"

A low rumble of murmurs and nods went around the circle, accompanied by some skeptical looks in Dumbledore's direction, who continued to survey Harry very carefully. 

"Because that is our hope," he said softly, and Harry got the distinct feeling that this conversation had already been had, and that no more was to be said on the subject. 

"What about Tonks then?" questioned Harry, changing topic quickly. The slightly warm and less rigid atmosphere that that had settled in the chamber during Dumbledore's words hastily evaporated, and people once more began staring acutely at Harry through narrowed, judgmental eyes. 

"What indeed," commented Dumbledore, his eyebrows raised, "So what did – Tonks, shall we say, to avoid more confusion – what did Tonks say to you last week Harry?"

All around him, Harry heard the rustle of parchment and the unscrewing of ink pots as quills were poised readily over scripts.

"She – well – nothing really. We talked about – about –" This was a lot harder than I thought, swallowed Harry, "About Sirius –"

A sympathetic sigh blew around the room as people about him began scribbling frantically on paper. 

"We were talking about Sirius –" Harry paused to watch the writers, and found himself dubious about whether or not they were actually writing what he said – his past experiences with Rita Skeeta were not yet forgotten.

"Ignore them," prompted Dumbledore, "Please, continue."

"We were talking about the memorial service on the 16th –," Out of the corner of his vision, Harry saw Lupin close his eyes and look away though he said nothing –",and I asked her who would be there."

"What did she say?"

"She said she wasn't too sure – probably me, Hermione, the Order, the Weasleys –"

Harry froze. She had said the Weasley's would be there…

"But I got a letter from Ron, just after she left – saying they were going to be on holiday that week, and couldn't make it, and that it had been cleared with the Order!" gasped Harry. The scratching of quills was like nails down a blackboard now. "I should have realised then!"

"Alas, it was something we all missed," nodded Dumbledore solemnly, "For if she had been Tonks, as you thought, she would have known the Weasley family could not make it. Please continue," he sighed.

"I – I old her I'd got Lupin's letter that morning – no, wait, that was before we talked about the service – oh hang on –"

Harry stumbled over his words, racking his brains to try and remember what had been said. Come on, thought Harry, think, _think…_

Across the chamber, he heard Snape give a muted snort of disdain as he had done outside the hall, and his mind became clearer.

"I asked her how things were in the Order," said Harry coldly, more to the Potions Master than his Head Teacher, "I asked her what Voldemort had been up to. She said nothing."

Gasps of vexation and snorts of disbelief went around the room. Harry faltered in alarm.

"Don't worry Harry," Dumbledore assured him, albeit a little condescendingly, "You will be told. Right now we need your evidence."

Harry gulped, nodded and continued, but a nagging shadow was now leering over the back of his mind.

"She said that the Order were trying to find information – to keep ahead of Voldemort – but I think that's it." finished Harry. 

"Very well," nodded Dumbledore gravely, "You –"

"Wait!" Harry blurted out, "When she left, she was in a really big hurry – something about being late – and when I first got home, she wasn't Tonks."

"What do you mean, 'she wasn't Tonks'?" queried Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was sat to Dumbledore's right.

"In appearance I mean – she was Bellatrix Lestrange."

A deadly silence held the room in an icy grip as everyone froze, Harry' last two words ringing loud and clear.

Dumbledore removed his glasses and held his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes.

"Thank you Harry. You may leave now."

"But –"

"Thank you," said Dumbledore sternly.

Harry gaped at him for a second, struggling to think of something intelligent to say, but in the end admitted defeat.

"Shall I go back to the hall?"

"Hmm? No… No, Remus will take you somewhere quiet. That's if he doesn't mind of course."

"That's great," Lupin smiled weakly, though his voice betrayed him, croaking a little, "Come on Harry, this way…"

With a final, searching glance at his Headmaster and the worried faces around the Order, Harry allowed himself to be steered from the room as Lupin placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. There was no doubt about it; it had not been Tonks Harry had spoken to and from the looks of the Order, they were desperate for any hope at all.

~

**Stellarsiren**** – Thank you! Well, I hope you found out – that's if you read this, of course… Which to get to this point I presume you did… ^_^**

**TeamExtremeGurl**** – Brilliant! Half way it is ^_^ Thank you , I hope you enjoyed this!**

**Jade Rose – Teehee, the original slimebucket… I like that! ^_^ Well, the suspense is over!**

**MagickalStar135 – Whoa, whoa, whoa! Duh, duh, DUH!!!! ^_^ Hopefully you just found out! **

**Becka – TA DA! OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY… You get the picture. ^_^ I know, what is your saucy lil Snapey doing in the house of your bit on the side? I hate to break it to you darlin'… It doesn't look good… Maybe you should suggest a threesome? **

**Please review!**

**Loadsa love, Estel**


	6. The Shadow Shifters

**Disclaimer: Alas, 'twas never to be! That I, a humble Fanfiction writer, should ever take credit from the amazing Rowling… ^_~**

**A/N: Okay… Well, first of all, if this is bloody awful, then its because I haven't written anything for this fic since… October? Yep, I've just been posting previously done chapters… Wow, look at me being a cheap skate… But hey, I've been rather busy, savvy? ^_~ This chapter is a bit shorter than the others I think, and almost returns to a sense of normality in that there isn't a huge, amazing action sequence… Ah well, that will come in time, fear not! As for now, I suppose I'd better go thank my wonderful reviewers…**

**Reviewers:**

**gemmy**** – Wowzers, your mum likes it? Say hi to your mum for me then! ^_~**

**Wiccan PussyKat – Thank you! beams happily to self Well, here's that update you asked for – sorry it took a bit long…**

**TeamExtremeGurl – Goodie! Here's another chappie for ye then!**

**Joe the Taoist - Looks out of window Wow, there you are! Protesting on my frozen, snow covered lawn for another chapter – and it looks like it worked! ^_^ I know what you mean though, some just make me want to be sick…. "Harry was so depressed he never talked to anyone again, Voldemort killed him the end, review please!" Oh, get a life… ^_^**

**DawnRising – Wow, thank you so much!!! Yeah, I know, my typing can be atrocious sometimes – ask Star-Stallion, one of my typos made her looks like a right fool… Teehee… cackles insanely to self Thank you for the offer, I may come back to you about that!**

**MagickalStar135 – Aww… But its only a minie cliffie… And its so cute!!! ^_^ Lol, I know, I should update a lot faster – but I've got into a habit of writing long chapters (not intentionally, honest!) and then once I've written it I have to type it, and then move onto the next one… And we must account for my laziness m'dear… ^_^ But hey, here's an update for you!**

**AltonShadeFoot – Yada… Yada… Yada… ^_~ Lol! I'm glad you consider it a find then! Hope you like this chappie!**

**Becca – BABES! I just posted a poem dedicated to you, init, and you iz wanting anuva chapta of dis 2? I know u iz mi bitch, but come on girl, I gotta have a rest some time ye know… YAY! RANDOM PIKEYNESS! ^_^ Omg, another chapter! And I updated it sooner than I said I would – aren't you proud?!**

**Well, with that said, done and dusted, I do believe its time for the actual chapter, don't you? ^_^**

****

****

**Chapter Six: The Shadow Shifters**

After leading Harry once more around the accumulation in the crowed, brightly decorated hall, Lupin continued down what appeared to be a corridor cut into to the rock of the mountain. The dark chiseled stone glinted in the firelight from the torches, hung from yet more iron-wrought sockets at every ten yards or so down the walls, but they formed a searing contrast to the bustle disappearing behind them. Old splintered wooden doors were placed at the intervals, most bolted with dull tarnished locks, and faint glimmers of light shone through the keyholes. Lupin went on to the end of the passageway, where the path broke into a fork. After a moment's hesitation that hardly broke his stride, Remus turned right, into a corridor almost identical to the last save that the pathing slab floor tilted ever so slightly upwards.

Noting his former professor was yet to say anything, Harry kept his peace and followed him in silence. He had enough to think about now anyway. He knew something had happened and it was something drastic; it must have been to have caused such a stir in the Order. Perhaps it was something that could change their fortunes in this war?

And then there was Tonks. Poor Tonks… Harry almost cringed visibly when he thought about the grilling they were to put her through. He hadn't wanted this; now he was hurting his friends by being plain ignorant, just great.

With a jolt, he realised that the fact still remained that someone other than Tonks had been in his living room last week; someone with a relatively good knowledge of recent events, and they must have been a metamorphmagus – unless they'd invented a highly advanced version of Polyjuice Potion…though he doubted that…

Harry almost walked straight into the back of Lupin before he saw that he he'd stopped outside a door just like any of the others in the corridor, near the end. Again the path split into a fork, continuing on forever it seemed in a maze beneath the mountain.

Lupin looked directly at him for the first time since they had left the Red Room, and smiled meekly. Harry truly noticed for the first time how old and tired his friend was looking, compared to when he had first met him three years ago. His hair was almost entirely silver grey, though it only showed in the right light, and his soft, gentle eyes looked more exhausted than any man had a right to be. Harry felt a sudden rush of empathy towards him; then realised it was the first time he'd thought about someone else's feelings in a long while.

"This will be your room for now, Harry," Lupin told him in a strained voice, pulling a bronze key from his pocket. The lock was slightly rusty, but after a good bit of fiddling it finally unbolted with a loud click. Flashing another weary smile at Harry, Lupin pushed against the door which swung effortlessly open to reveal a dark, cold room. Harry raised a questioning eyebrow. Lupin laughed.

"Come on, they're not that bad," he joked feebly, but there was the hint of is old self in his eye.

Harry once more followed him inside and found the air to be surprisingly cool and fresh, considering they were under a mountain. Remus headed at once for the unlit ashen fireplace, and with a prod from his wand and a few well chosen words, the dry logs caused a roaring fire to get going. Light instantly flooded the shadows, and a warm hazy glow filled the room as silhouetted flames licked and danced upon the walls. 

"Take a seat Harry," invited Lupin, gesturing to a bed covered in a thick patchwork quilt. Harry was immediately reminded of Mrs. Weasley. Lupin sat on a rocking chair by a wooden table and for a minute swayed quietly, watching the fire as he thought. 

Harry would allow him his time; for a while at least. There were some questions that he just needed answering if he was to be saved from going completely insane. For now he took in his surroundings with a mild and genuine interest. The headboard of the bed was standing against a wall of glistening black rock, exactly the same as the hallway outside was made of. The floor as laid with the same slabs too, though six or seven matted and bobble-covered rugs were strewn across it for the most part, and there were two other chairs around the table by Lupin. The mantle above the fireplace was empty save for a single photo of a young man with messy black hair, whose arm was draped around a pretty girl with green eyes.

"It's a nice picture, isn't it?" said Lupin softly, following Harry's gaze. The young wizard's attention was snapped back to him, and he nodded with a half smile.

"Now that must have been taken… Let me see, we'd just got our OWLs back I think – yes, so we were your age," Lupin confirmed to himself more than to Harry. "And you'll notice its not moving either."

Harry turned to look at his mother and father again, sat on a glittering green lawn under a leafy apple tree, dappled in light, both beaming happily at the camera. It was as Lupin said; the picture remained almost eerily still, Harry thought; he was so used to wizard photos by now.

"That was taken at your grandparents house – on your mothers side," he added, and an unexpected mischievous grin spread across his face. "that was the best summer I've ever had I think – though I'm not sure Lily's neighbours thought the same – nor their cat neither…" he chuckled sheepishly. He laughed quietly to himself as the memories of that year flashed across his mind. Harry smiled at him, glad that his good friend and mentor was still there after all that had happened. 

"But look at me – reminiscing about old times," started Remus wistfully, shaking himself a little, "I expect you're hungry aren't you?"

Before Harry had a chance to politely decline the offer, Lupin had flicked his wand and a tray of ham and cheese sandwiches was on the table, along side a china pot of steaming tea, a milk jug and a sugar bowl. 

Harry took a cheese sandwich when Lupin offered it, but could only force down two or three bites, and he scolded his tongue on the tea, so hastily left that on the floor.

After another small period of silence, Harry could finally wait no more and asked the question he was burning to have answered.

"Lupin – what was Dumbledore talking about back there? What does he mean something's happened? What is it?"

Lupin seemed to visibly retreat back into the shadow of the man he was within a matter of seconds. Letting out a deep sigh he put his own mug back on the table, and surveyed Harry carefully, as if wondering how much to tell him.

"It is not a case of what," he began finally, "As a case of who; have you ever heard of the Shadow Shifters Harry?"

Harry hadn't realised it, but he was suddenly sat on the edge of the bed, listening intently to every word Lupin was saying. When the question was directed at him, he shook his head jerkily. practically impatient for Lupin to go on.

"I didn't think you would have," sighed Lupin grimly, and picking up his mug took another sip of his tea as he decided the best way to put it. Harry was reminded a little painfully once again of how he was cut off from the wizarding world. Yet, when he really thought about it, he hadn't been given reason to feel like that in a long time.

Lupin replaced his mug on the table again.

"Shadow Shifters," he said, "Are exactly that. No one's really sure how, because all the evidence was destroyed, but some time about 1000 years ago, a team of experimenting wizards invented a way by which you could move from one place to another through shadows. At first, they were considered revolutionary for their time, and indeed they were for it proved to be very useful. For example, if one were in London and wished to be in Paris, all you would have to do is step into a shadow in London, and by a magic that I don't rightly understand, you'd come out at, say, in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. You follow?" Lupin added.

Harry nodded.

"Yes, I think so… But what have they got to do with anything?"

Lupin's face contorted into something close to a grimace.

"The problem was, you needed to pass through the Shadow World to do so. Every time the wizards cut their way into the shadows, that's where they ended up. Except, the shadow world was never meant for the living Harry. Bit by bit it drained them of life and soul, until they eventually became no more than shadows themselves. It was then that they destroyed all of their research, knowing that they could not afford anyone else to make the same mistake as they did. For almost 1000 years they disappeared, and for the most part, people forgot them and their experiment."

Harry frowned.

"I understand everything you've said – and it makes sense – but if that happened so long ago, how will it effect anyone now?" 

"Ah," said Lupin knowingly, "but what were they?"

"Me –" Harry hesitated. "Shadows," he replied slowly, not really taking in the full scope of Lupin's point yet.

"Exactly. And how do you kill a shadow Harry? How does a shadow die?" asked Lupin, raising an eyebrow.

"You – can't," gasped Harry as comprehension dawned. "So you mean –"

"Those men have been alive for the past millennium, yes," explain Lupin, shaking his head sadly, "That is, if you want to call them living… Things might have been alright if they could have stayed in our world, the real world. But a shadow isn't real – they can only be caused by an object in light. So of course, they could never stay here – they had to remain in the Shadow World. And it drove them mad," his voice dropped to a whisper, "Just think about it Harry – neither alive nor dead, doomed to spend eternity in twilight.

To be honest, the last – the first time Voldemort rose to power, I'm not sure they even vaguely recognized what was going on, let alone anyone else. So of course, that was to our advantage – they couldn't help us, but they couldn't help Him either."

Lupin paused to let his words sink in, and then the penny dropped; Harry knew what it was the Order feared so much.

"But they realise now, don't they?" said Harry, searching Lupin's face for confirmation. "and its not us they've joined is it?"

"Bingo," said Lupin, shaking his head.

"But – but how can you defeat an enemy who could come from just about anywhere?" asked Harry in bewilderment and despair.

"So you see, that would be our problem as of now," finished Lupin, sitting back in his chair letting it rock slightly. He eyed his lukewarm tea with mild disdain.

"Does that mean they could come at us now?" questioned Harry cautiously, glancing with suspicion the supposedly innocent shadows all over the room. Suddenly the corridor seemed quiet inviting…

"No, we've sorted that security problem at least," Lupin assured him, "For a start, you need to know where you're going when you step into a shadow I think, and so long as places like this and Grimmauld place remain hidden they're safe. Also, our own people have been working on it, and have come up with a specialized binding spell on all the shadows. Within this mountain, the shadows are all sealed off in one way or another."

"Sealing shadows"? Harry murmured. Perhaps he would ask Hermione about it when he saw her. 

"The number of times Kingsley's tried to explain it to me Harry, and I'm still in the dark," Lupin grinned, "don't even begin to worry about it."

Harry snorted and turned to watch the fire, mulling things over in his head. So these – Shadow Shifters… If they had been around for a thousand years, surely that would make them immortal. He put the question to Lupin, who frowned in response.

"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure," he answered truthfully.

"But – say they were," said Harry slowly, still putting the pieces together as he spoke, "Say these people were immortal. Isn't immortality one of the things Voldemort wants above all else?"

Lupin had heated his tea with the tip of his wand, and as he took a long sip his eyes twinkled almost triumphantly at his over the rim of his mug.

"I was wondering when you'd figure that out," he smiled. "Yes, of course, that's been suggested; but then we really don't know if he would need them for that purpose anymore."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, there's the fact he's already survived the Avada Kedavra curse before – oh yes, he was torn body from soul, but he survived. And now he's back… Well, some say he's already achieved immortality."

Harry was about to make another point when there was a loud knock at the door.

"Remus? You in there, dahlin'?" a woman's cheery voice called. Lupin groaned softly and rolled his eyes. Harry gazed at him questioningly, but Lupin dismissed it.

"Yes Osiris, I'm in here," he called back, standing up as the door swung open. A pretty foreign looking girl in her mid-twenties stood on the other side, leaning on the door frame. Straight jet black hair with a heavy, dead cut fringe framed her naturally tanned face and dark, almond eyes. She wasn't very tall – probably only 5'4" – but everything about her was finely chiseled and delicate. Harry though she looked very beautiful, and she reminded him of something. Her robes were a shimmering gold, covered in a hieroglyph pattern.

"Come on mate, you ain't getting' off that easy like," she scoffed. Harry's jaw practically hit the floor before he caught himself, as she spoke in a thick cockney accent.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming," mumbled Lupin, "Oh – by the way Harry, this is Osiris. She's my Egyptian counterpart."

So that's what she reminded Harry of – one of those ancient Egyptians he had seen in pictures. 

"'alf Egyptian I think you'll find, love," Osiris corrected him, then added to Harry, "Me dad brought me up in Souff-East London. Mum lives in Cairo."

Harry nodded politely.

"I'm Harry," he introduced himself, and regretted it almost immediately as she looked at him as though he were a three year old child.

"You don't say mate," she drawled, "Come on Remus, we ain't got all day."

Lupin sighed and ran his hand through his hair, grinning apologetically at Harry as Osiris turned away.

"I'll be back quite last Harry, so don't wait for me. I think Charlie is around here somewhere if you need him – remember, you want anything just give someone a shout, alright?" Harry had the distinct erg to say no, it was not alright, and he wanted to know everything that was going on, but decided against it.

"That's fine," he lied well enough, "But I'll see you soon won't I?"

"Hopefully," nodded Lupin, "Keep yourself busy Harry, these walls will drive you insane otherwise." With a last grin he joined Osiris in the corridor, and closed the door behind him with a click. 

**~**

**Well, what do we make of that my preciousss? Sorry – wrong book, I know… But how on earth will this fit into the fic as a whole? Well, considering I only decided as I wrote it, I'd be surprised if you figured it out! Although if you do, you get a cookie to keep you quiet ^_^**

**Loadsa love, Estel**

**PLEASE REVIEW!!!**


End file.
